


Guild Initiation and Retribution

by robinasnyder



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gang Rape, Gangbang, Multi, Set in Episode 3: The Sin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:54:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22024408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinasnyder/pseuds/robinasnyder
Summary: Any person who wants to join the Bounty Hunters Guild must go through Guild Initiation, allowing a themselves to be taken by a group of up to six other bounty hunters. After Initiation, Guild members may settled disputes with a form of the Initiation called the Retribution. Din Djarin has undergone Retribution many times since he joined the Guild, but this time is different. The pain and humiliation he owes isn't for the other Guild members who have him, but for a child whose sacrifice is paying for a better life for Din. His guilt won't let him say no.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 85





	Guild Initiation and Retribution

**Author's Note:**

> While Din does agree to the Retribution, the other Guild Members go too far. Just be aware.

They pressed his helmet down into the table. For once he didn’t mind. They knew the rules and so did he. His ass was theirs. For this short time his hole was theirs to do with as they pleased. If they tried to force off more of his armor than he wanted, he would break hands. If they got his armor dirty, he would break heads. If they tried to remove his helmet, he would remove their heads from their bodies. If they followed the rules and so did he, no one got hurt. Too much, anyway. 

There were rules that came with being a Bounty Hunter in the Guild, and they weren’t the same rules as being a Mandalorian. Some of those rules did line up. Others fit into grey areas. The Guild Initiation was one of those grey areas. 

Mandalorians kept their faces covered. Only spouses, and children until a certain age, were allowed to see their faces. That meant that there were, shall we say, certain romantic ideals, values that were kept very close to a proper Mandalorian warrior heart. 

Din wasn’t different. He dreamed of finding his spouse, marrying them in a proper ceremony (more than the very barebones “I accept you as my spouse” marriage that had to be common now, but less ornate than what would be done on Coruscant or his old home world). Then, on their wedding night he would take his helmet off, and they would tell him how handsome he was. Then they’d make love. He had dreamed about this since before he pledged to the Creed. 

But the Guild had its own ideas of what was proper, including the Initiation. A bounty hunter who wanted to join the Guild had to allow themselves to get fucked by a group of other Guild members. It showed that they could follow the rules, take one for the team, and do what the Guild demanded of them. Also, everyone else had done it, and misery loved company. 

Din had been speechless when Greef Karga told him, not that he generally talked very much. But his normal silence might have saved him, as did his helmet, which kept Greef from seeing the way blood drained from his face. It was something they all did, Greef assured him. Even he had done it years back. It was a pain but then it was done. Oh, yes, it could happen again other times, but once you were in you were in and it wasn’t totally necessary. Sometimes it was just the fastest way to deal with a problem, and less deadly than a duel. 

Din had returned to the Covert, shaken to his core. He had walked, appearing more in control than he was, to the Armorer. She was their priestess, their guiding star. She built their armor, kept their history and their laws, and settled their disputes. It made sense for a religion built on war to have their councilor be the person who built their protections, their faces, their way of interacting with the world. 

He stumbled to her forge, bowed before her, still a young man, only a few years from having pledged himself to the Creed. He had knelt there for maybe an hour before he could bring himself to ask. And she waited for him. 

She knelt before him and he poured out his fears. Could he do this and be a Mandalorian? What about their ideals? Would he destroy himself to bring supplies to his people? 

“Many Mandalorians have been part of the guild,” she finally said. “There are ways to work with the laws of the Guild. You would not be the first. We make sacrifices to uphold the Creed. This is the way.” 

“So, what must I do?” He asked, his voice nearly a whisper. 

“You give only what has to be given. The Initiation, and subsequent Retributions only ask that you get fucked. You do not have to remove your helmet, or much armor for this. Figure out how much skin needs to be shown and set ground rules. It is not an assault; it is an exchange. You get a say in what happens,” she told him. Her voice was as calm and powerful as if she was proclaiming judgment on a dispute.

“Is that enough?” he had asked. 

“We are called to make sacrifices. All creatures are, but the Creed guides us. What goes first?” she asked him. 

“The Creed, the foundlings, the Covert,” he said instantly. She nodded. 

“The self,” she added. “Last of all, but do not forget this last as well. Do what you must, keep your helmet.” 

“This is the way,” he said. 

That had been some twenty years back, maybe more or less. He let the date sift through his memory like sand. What was important was the message. It got him through the Initiation, but more importantly, it got him through the Retributions. 

Din was good, possibly the best in the Guild, possibly the best the Guild ever had. His name, if he ever spoke it, would have been as legendary as Cad Bane or Aurra Singh. Some people whispered he was Jango Fett back from the dead. Being the best meant he made enemies within the Guild. He snatched bounties out of the waiting hands of other Guild members all the time. And when that happened, the other bounty hunters wanted to punish him. Greef hadn’t been lying that Retributions were often just faster and easier. 

And something else too. Unlike the other Mandalorians in the Covert, he didn’t get a chance to get the little brushes of skin the rest of them did. It was possibly to brush wrists easily enough or hold one of the children. But Din lived outside. He didn’t have anyone safe enough in his life to ask for that. Getting fucked was a touch, enough to keep him from losing his mind from touch starvation. 

But it felt different this time. He couldn’t take a bitter enjoyment out of this. This Retribution was a farce. Greef had been right that every bounty hunter in the room wanted him dead when he stood there in his shining new Beskar armor. The weight of it didn’t feel like victory, though. Instead it felt like a shackle around his neck. 

He shoved all thoughts of the Child from his mind when he was cornered. Retributions had rules. Six people per day at maximum. Din told them his rules and the group of six escorted him to a room. He was certain if he stayed to tomorrow, he would have another six waiting for him. Despite that one Retribution should wash away the sin, he knew every bounty hunter on the planet would take him if they could. They would fuck him hard and comfort themselves knowing that they had fucked the great Mandalorian who won so much Beskar. They would argue that the Retribution was just, and not that they were simply sore losers. 

If Din killed them, Greef would back him up. If he reported them, Greef would back him up. There were rules. But Din just walked with them to the back room. He pulled his cape over his shoulder and pushed his own pants down. He assumed the position over the table, down on his elbows. His blasters were in reach. This wasn’t a trust exercise. If they broke the rules they would die, plain and simple. 

The first one up was a Trandoshan that Din did not know. He didn’t like taking Trandoshan dick. They tended to be both big and scaly. Also dry. They didn’t mind a dry hole. The first thrust hurt. There was some lubrication, as there were rules, but it was minimal. Din didn’t know if it was better or worse for the Trandoshan to go first. Certainly, it was going to rip him up, but then he’d basically be stretched, and the skin wasn’t raw yet. 

Six of one, half a dozen of another. He squeezed his hands into fists. This was acceptable. The pain was good. He couldn’t ignore it. He couldn’t think past the tearing feeling, the grating feeling. It was just big, and each thrust felt like another layer of skin was ripped away form his insides. 

He didn’t make many noises, though his eyes watered from the pain. He wasn’t trying to be strong; he just didn’t deserve to express pain where someone might hear and decide to go easy on him. This was Retribution, but not for anything he’d done to these people. It was Retribution for something he’d done who couldn’t protect himself. 

Coward. He was a great coward for what he’d done. He shouldn’t have accepted the armor. The Trandoshan, thankfully, didn’t last long. He felt their very sticky slick fill him out. A rough, clawed finger came in as soon as the scaly dick was removed. The Trandoshan could have shredded his insides with that claw, but instead was gentle. He carefully cleaned Din out of the painful slick he’d left behind. Din nearly sobbed. He didn’t deserve that kindness. 

The next person came up, forcing themselves in. Again, they were slicked up. It was a human this time. He hadn’t examined them, but he thought it might be the blond, although he wasn’t certain. He also didn’t care. They rammed into him with malicious intent. They wanted to hurt him. Some back part of his mind, working beyond the pain, realized that the Trandoshan had being treating him with the proper level of care for what the Retribution was. It hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to destroy his body. The human wanted to destroy him. There just wasn’t enough of the human to shred him since the Trandoshan went first. 

But still it hurt. Din buried himself in it. He let it wash over him. But it wasn’t enough to block the waves of guilt which threatened to make him lose his stomach. He shouldn’t have let the Armorer make the armor. He didn’t deserve it. Logically, his chest piece was wrecked, and he needed something new, but he could have just replaced that. He didn’t have to accept the rest. 

Mandalorians sacrificed for the Creed, but the Beskar was not bought with his sacrifice. His tears slipped freely down his face. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from sobbing. He didn’t deserve the sounds. 

The human traded off with someone, something. He didn’t know. He knew it hurt. It was barbed. A few species had a barbed penis, but he didn’t know who had him. He hadn’t focused on who was pulling him into a room. He probably should have, but all he’d wanted was to hurt. He couldn’t even hear what was being said. His ears filled with white noise. 

Deeper and deeper the barbed dick was driven into him. He let out a loud groan of pain. He snapped his mouth closed hard enough to hear his teeth clack. No, he did not deserve it. Distantly he heard them, one of them, maybe more, say something about how he moaned like a whore. 

Maybe he did, or maybe they were bad with whores if they always hurt them enough to make that sound. He rolled his eyes, not that anyone could see. He gasped again and another terribly hard thrust. The next few came in such rapid succession he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He was being ripped apart. He was bleeding. He was bleeding badly. 

Whoever it was came inside him. Din dropped his forehead against the table, panting hard. He nearly screamed when the dick was ripped all the way out of his body, taking some of the inner wall with him. 

“Not what we agreed!” the Trandoshan shouted. Din’s ears filled with white static again. Someone else entered him. Distantly he heard stomping feet and the swish of a door opening and closing. Even more distantly, he thought this was odd. But someone was driving into him. 

Human, he thought, almost giddy from the pain. It was a human who had him. Would the Child feel like this? Almost to laughing because it hurt so much? Is this what he did to them? He couldn’t quite choke down the sob, but he heard the others talking loudly. He didn’t know if they heard. He didn’t know if it mattered. 

He felt the other, the human? He felt them come inside him, which assured him it was a human. Human cum always felt a certain way. The human pulled out and someone, two someones, pulled his cheeks apart. Who was next? It was big, when it entered he shouted loudly in pain. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t hide his noises. It burned, burned like he was on fire form the inside out. He was shaking so badly that he dropped forward entirely to the table. The thrusting didn’t stop, like some construction machine or something. Never ending, painful. 

“What in blazes are you doing?” The voice was loud. Was that Greef? Was he next? 

The large something pulled out of him. His knees collapsed. He had to keep himself up by the table itself. Greef was shouting. He could hear it over the waves of static. As he focused, he could make out the words. 

“This is not what Retribution is for! All of you get out of my sight while I decide what you owe for this!” 

“Sorry, boss,” The Trandoshan said quietly. 

“You were right to get me. You’re damn lucky Mando has good self-control. Oh damn, help me.” 

The pair of them help Din onto the table. Again, he felt that scaly, clawed finger enter him, and again gently clean him out. It seemed to take forever. He kept hissing. He didn’t think that last thing had been human. Machine maybe?

“You still with us, Mando?” Greef asked. 

“The hell was that?” Din rasped out. 

“Crazy bitch had the penile extension from a sex droid. Those things are basically a piston with some silicon on them. Not this time, though,” Greef said. Ah, that’s why it hurt. It was hot, uncovered metal. 

“Damn droids,” Din grumbled. 

“Ivink’s almost got you clean. We’ll get you some bacta. It should feel a lot better soon.” Greef gripped his arm and squeezed. 

“I’ll be fine,” Din said, trying to catch his breath. 

“Why didn’t you just stop them?” 

“He is a good man,” Ivink said from behind him. 

“Didn’t realize what is was,” Din added. 

“MMmhm,” Greef hummed, totally not believing it. “You didn’t have to do this.” 

“Like you said, Greef. It’s just faster this way.” 

“Damn Mandalorian.” Greef was shaking his head the way he did when he was exasperated. 

Ivink removed his finger but returned with a very cold spray. It hurt like ice, but quickly that sensation became numbness. The bacta spray would heal him after a couple hours. 

“Must really like me to pull out the bacta,” Din joked weakly. Bacta was more difficult to come by now that the Empire had fallen and supply lines had halted. 

“You just made me a lot of money and a very, very good reputation. I’m not letting some idiots ruin my best hunter.” Greef squeezed his shoulder again. It was kind of nice. 

Din slowly pushed himself up and pulled up his pants. “Thank you, Ivink.” 

“I owe you a Retribution if you wish. Or someone else to carry it out on me if you should choose.” Din smiled to himself. Of course, Ivink heard that Din never, ever participated in Retribution himself except as the reciever. 

“No debt is owed,” Din said. “The others, I’m sure Greef can handle.” 

“And I will. Go get some rest, Mando.” 

“I’m going back to my ship,” Din said. He pulled his cape back over his shoulder. “It’s time to head on.” 

“Just like, always working,” Greef said. “Do sleep at some point.” 

“I will,” Din said. He straightened up and walked out with more composure than he thought himself possible of. Greef had to do what he had to do to keep order in the Guild, but Din knew the truth. He deserved the pain. It was a price paid for a sin he committed and profited of. He should have just let them finish. 

But something was building under his skin. Would the Child hurt like that? What types of experiments would be run on a child? What had he handed the baby over to? He walked toward the Razor Crest, planning to leave and escape those thoughts, but he couldn’t believe that those thoughts wouldn’t follow him wherever he went.

**Author's Note:**

> This story brought to you by the lovely people at the [Mando Discord Chat](https://discord.gg/2RUN4Vr), where we agree to do horrible things to Din Djarin so long as nothing bad happens to Baby Yoda ever.


End file.
